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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644499">the hush that follows</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefullergirl/pseuds/thefullergirl'>thefullergirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Autopsies, Blood, Crime Scenes, Dismemberment, Guns, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Murder, Murder Mystery, Scheming, Serious Injuries, assassin!Renjun, crime phographer!Jaemin, mentions of torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:02:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefullergirl/pseuds/thefullergirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaemin prefers the photos. One can never trust their eyes too much, and his camera always, always sees more. He can always go back to them, see something he hasn’t seen before. They preserve so much more than the mind could ever hope to do.</p><p>Now, with possibly the biggest case of a serial killer their city has had in years, Jaemin isn’t sure he wants to trust even the photos, not when that face he sees shouldn't even be there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. lights out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is an old wip that i'm rewriting! i just didn't want to let go of it just yet.</p><p>just a reminder that nothing i write here reflects the real-life people i based the characters off of. </p><p>please heed the tags! i'll be adding more as i go along~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There's blood on his hands.</p><p>Not that it was something he wasn't used to. His entire profession got him involved with blood almost the entire time. Blood on pristine white tiles, flowing towards a drain. Blood being drained out of a body using tubes, quickly filling up a container. Splatters on walls, drops on floors, dried up on clothing. Staining his gloves and part of his scrubs. Seeing it doesn't even make him flinch anymore.</p><p>However, he hasn't experienced it caked on his fingers, his shirt and sheets ruined with dark, dry streaks.</p><p>Jaemin’s mind is not awake enough to process what’s in front of him. He reaches for his phone on the bedside table, and realizes the screen was cracked. Checking the time, he finds that it's already well past 8 in the morning. His vision blurs the longer he looks at it, so he puts his phone down. An uncharacteristic groan leaves his lips as he turns over, burying his aching head into his pillows.</p><p>He doesn't realize he'd fallen back asleep until he's jolted awake by the loud knocking on his door. Jaemin wills it away, wants to block it out and continue his slumber. Well aware of who it is, he wants to believe that he's only dreaming it and it will stop soon. When it doesn't, he drags himself out of bed, head throbbing and knees buckling a bit. Opening the door only confirms what he already knows would be at the opposite side of it.</p><p>Standing there in his ever-perfectly pressed dress shirt and slacks, eyebrows furrowed at him and the beginnings of a lecture on his lips, was his uncle. Jaemin closes his eyes as if flinching, getting himself ready for the yelling that is sure to follow. Why wouldn't he? He looks like an outright mess, still in the clothes he wore to work yesterday, stains other than the blood decorating his once white button-down, his hair unbrushed. It’s 9 AM for goodness sake, he should be more than ready at this time of day.</p><p>It surprises him when the lecture doesn't come. "Just... explain to me what all of this is," his uncle says, the exasperation apparent. He must have been tired from all his attempts to wake him. Jaemin's eyes follow his hands as they gesture up and down, meaning that he wanted him to tell him exactly what had happened to him.</p><p>The thing is, he doesn't know himself. Even very barely conscious, he should at least know something about all of this. Straightening his back so that he would look even the slightest bit more composed, he ran through all of his memories from yesterday. There was work, as usual, but he had finished early so he left before he usually does. He remembers being stopped by a few colleagues, all rather familiar faces, asking him if he'd like to have dinner. Jaemin is absolutely sure that he texted his uncle and his sister where he was going, so that they wouldn't worry. There was terrible soup but good pasta at that place where they ate, and he vaguely recalls talking about the awards that the Committee on Crime and Pathology were handing out by the end of the week. After that, Jaemin can only conjure a blank.</p><p>"Well?" his uncle asks, obviously impatient at this point. "I still have to leave to go to the university, Jaemin."</p><p>"I'm sorry, I can't remember." It's good that his voice doesn't shake as he says this, even as he was sure that it would. He very rarely comes up with absolutely nothing. Jaemin shook his head to clear it. "I must have passed out at some point last night."</p><p>His uncle stands there and looks him up and down again. Clearly, he could point out at least a dozen things that he should have done, or tell him a dozen more things that he should do right now. He waits for it, willing his breathing to return to normal even as the pace of his heartbeat starts to pick up.</p><p>"Clean yourself up. There are things to do," he says instead, walking away without any other remark. Belatedly, Jaemin nods, closing the door. He leans against it, bringing his hands up to his eye level and examining them.</p><p>None of the dark staining on his skin is from him. The blood isn't splattered across them like if he shielded herself from someone. It is more of how his gloves looked when he would hold an object coated in the liquid. Parts of it were wiped away from him tossing and turning in the bed, but most of it remained, probably already mostly dry when he fell asleep. He then holds them away from him, twisting his arms a bit as he checked for any signs that he was in a struggle. It doesn't seem like he was, and both his legs are unscathed too.</p><p>Maybe he helped someone up? The place they went to did have a bar, and Jaemin is well aware of what happens to some people when they consume too much alcohol. He's seen her fair share of people collapsing on the side of the street or picking up fights. One time, they had a case where the crime scene was a bar, and almost all the surfaces glowed when the blacklight was shone on them. Blood there wouldn't have been uncommon, so perhaps he really did try to help someone. Maybe it was even a colleague of his.</p><p>He makes a mental note to text his colleagues later and ask if they remember anything from last night. Straightening up slowly, Jaemin pushes himself off the door and pads to his bathroom. Perhaps a nice shower would help clear his muddled brain. But first, he grabs some cotton swabs and ziplock bags from his drawer.</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>After showering and changing into a clean set of clothes, he goes down to their dining room. Already there is his sister, nursing a cup of tea and poring over the pile of papers covering half the table. Jaemin isn't even sure that she's eaten anything, despite being up for at least 4 hours at this point.</p><p>He settles into his seat opposite the lawyer, and ladles the still slightly warm porridge into his bowl. Jihyo doesn't even look up or acknowledge him, both eyes absolutely glued to whatever she's reading. Besides, Jaemin doesn't know if he can handle all the teasing his sister might do after his seemingly disastrous night out. They stay like that for a while, late morning sun on their skin and only the rustle of papers to be heard. Jaemin is reaching for the steamed buns when his sister finally notices him.</p><p>"Good morning," she chirps, flashing her always-bright smile at Jaemin. He returns the greeting warmly. "You slept in today," the lawyer remarks, but it's not stinging. "Not that that's a bad thing. Just a little surprising."</p><p>Jaemin dips his bun in his cup of coffee. He focuses on that for a bit before answering. "I...was not feeling well." Biting down on the bun, he chews thoughtfully, waiting for his sister to respond. </p><p>"Was it because of last night?" Jihyo was back to reading, her blue highlighter going over some lines. The lawyer was muttering to herself softly as she went over her notes. "When I realized you were going to a restaurant with a bar, I'll admit my jaw dropped a bit at that." </p><p>Swallowing his second bite, Jaemin answers. "I suppose it is. I don't remember much of what happened though." </p><p>This makes Jihyo pause, meeting the younger boy's eyes with her own. She fights the urge to raise her eyebrows too much at what her brother just said. "Did you get drunk?" she asks carefully, her highlighter capped and her entire attention on Jaemin. </p><p>Jaemin's own brows knit together, his head moving in an almost imperceptible shake. "I don't remember drinking." </p><p>Dropping everything, his sister goes around the table to go to his side. Cold, smooth hands cup his face, tilting him up gently to meet her familiar gaze. Those amber eyes seem to search his features, all the smile wiped from his sister's face.</p><p>Jaemin understands why his sister is worried. She has handled cases that are similar to what happened to him, and Jihyo definitely knows the horrible truth behind what happened to those others. Attorney Park Jihyo may have handled and won the biggest cases of the past decade or so, she may have taken the cases of scandals, murders, fraud, all of it. But something like this, something that might have happened to her own brother, is still terrifying.</p><p>Putting his own hands on his sister's, he takes a deep breath. "Nothing terrible happened." He looks up at the lawyer, gaze unwavering. "I can assure you that."</p><p>Thumbs rub at Jaemin's temples. "You were still intoxicated somehow. You would feel alright this morning if you weren't."</p><p>The younger boy nods solemnly. He knows. It's scary, he can admit that. The number of incidents like that hadn't dwindled in the past years, despite stricter laws and security measures being established. People aren't truly safe from anything right now.</p><p>"I'll find out what happened last night, you know I will," he says reassuringly. This makes the lawyer deflate a little, taking her hands away and giving the smallest smile. She nods, and walks back to her spot.</p><p>Jaemin continues eating, glancing up every now and then to watch his sister work. Everything is in neat piles, the highlighters and the sticky notes color-coded. Jihyo is meticulous and efficient, going through a bundle of paper around an inch thick before Jaemin could even finish his bowl of porridge. Silence fills their home, occupying the spaces. It isn't a cold stillness, but rather a warm peace enveloping them. There is only the smooth glide of the lawyer's pen on the paper and the soft clink of Jaemin's spoon against his porcelain bowl. </p><p>"Which one is that?" he asks, peering at the printed words. </p><p>It takes a while before his sister responds, too engrossed in her work. "It's the Lee case." </p><p>The Lee case was one of the biggest and most controversial cases of their lifetimes. An entire book could probably be written about the charges against them and the crimes that they have done. They were an entire family, who owned possibly the biggest business in the area, the Neo Manufacturing Corporation. It produces nearly 60 percent of all material goods of the country, ranging from clothes to appliances to furniture to building materials. They even had a feature where you could have groceries shipped to your door. Neo Manufacturing Corporation isn't just a local company, as it has shipped to dozens of other countries, their revenues reaching billions per year. </p><p>Other than that, the Lee family dabbled in numerous other businesses. Pharmaceuticals, medical supplies, automobiles, the food industry, you name it. Rumors (some recently confirmed by his sister) say that they are dabbling in a handful of illegal businesses as well, a bit typical now of prominent families. They seemed determined to take over nearly everything, and they pretty much had it. </p><p>Jihyo has been on this case for years, even before Jaemin graduated high school, already aware of what has been happening behind the lacquered doors of everything the Lees own. Dozens of crimes, hundreds of violations, thousands maybe of incidents of abuse. There really was no power like money, and Jihyo was going to tear them down, little by little.</p><p>When Jaemin finishes his food, he stands up to take his dishes to the sink. Jihyo gets up from the table as well, finding the remote to the TV and turning it on. It was a habit now to watch some news in the morning, most likely the only time that TV is ever used. Both settle back down into their seats, with one back to reading her documents and the other looking through work emails. The cracked screen really bothered him, and he made a mental note to get it fixed as soon as he can.</p><p>There is a tiny icon at the top of his screen, signalling that he had missed a call. It's odd, since he didn't hear it ring nor remember seeing that somebody had called him. To be fair, though, it's not like his mind was in the best state earlier. He taps on the notification and views the number, seeing that it's unknown to him. Promptly, he deletes it.</p><p>Calls from random people were common to him now. It could be anyone, from distressed family members to overwhelmingly guilty suspects to representatives trying to bargain with him to hurry with the investigation or change a few things in the report. He found it best not to deal with any of them, since if they had anything important to say they would call his office number or anyone else on the team that had more time to listen to information from witnesses. After replying to the last unread email in his inbox, he puts the phone down and turns to face the TV.</p><p>The weatherman is gesturing with his hands as he points out the regions where there has been slight showers. It's still mostly dry where he lived, with short bursts of rain every now and then. Jaemin remembers tucking an umbrella into his backpack before he left last night, already eyeing the gloomy skies. Based on the state of his jeans this morning, it seemed like it did rain, what with the spatters on them.</p><p>After the spritely new weatherman is a vaguely familiar news anchor. He isn't the usual one, but he's seen him before. His face is solemn as he says that there is breaking news, the blinking of the red logo a little alarming. The word "murder" flashes at the bottom of the screen, and the siblings share a look.</p><p>"At 7 AM today, a mother taking her child to a playground in Busan stumbled across a horrifying sight. Hanging from the monkey bars is a corpse, or whatever remained of it, face smashed in and missing all its limbs. Authorities are on the scene now."</p><p>A series of images are flashed on the screen, from the very empty playground to a blurred-out glimpse of the dead body. Jaemin can feel his sister's stare on him. Any moment now, he's going to be called. Almost on cue, his phone rings.</p><p>Once he picks up, there isn't even a greeting. "We need you here, now. Texting the address after this call," his boss says in his usual clipped tone. He promises he'll arrive quickly, and ends the call. The lawyer is looking at him, eyebrows slightly raised and a corner of her mouth curled up. Despite this, she doesn't look pleased.</p><p>"Duty again, huh?" she says, eyes following her brother's movements as he stuffs his phone and keys in his backpack.</p><p>"Duty always," Jaemin replies, throwing on a light coat before saying goodbye to his sister. He's out the door the next moment.</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>The playground is deceptively clean. No drips, no drag marks, not even any perceptible sign of footprints. Everything is brightly painted in the primary colors, all the surfaces damp from the light shower last night. The chains of the swingset creaked in the wind as they rocked back and forth gently. Leaves swirled in small puddles that reflected the skies above them. Truly nothing out of the ordinary, save for the bloody, mangled mess hanging from the bright yellow monkey bars.</p><p>Jaemin hates it when it's this clean. Usually, it means whoever did this was careful. Careful ones are harder to catch.</p><p>Clearing his head, he focuses on the scene in front of him. Someone is briefing him, and he takes note of what they’re saying. That doesn’t necessarily mean he agrees. People can be wrong about what they’ve seen, what they’ve observed. During situations like these, many things are never quite what they seem. The thousands of thoughts that threaten to clog his mind are flushed out. The first step in every crime scene he’s been at: Don’t assume anything.</p><p>He walks up to the corpse, raising his camera. Trained eyes sweep over it before he could even snap the first photo up close. From whatever's left, they’ve identified it as male, in his early thirties. The dull chatter of everyone at the crime scene barely register in his mind as he photographs the remains. People are everywhere, from the investigators questioning the mother in a far corner, to the group that is scouting the forest just beyond the playground, to the flurry of people in white combing the grounds within a 20-meter radius, to the press still lingering at the borders of the boundaries set by the investigators. Jaemin blocks all of it out.</p><p>One of the investigators is beside him, telling him that so far there have been no trails or weapon of any sort within the police line. No people were seen in the area other than the mother and her child in the 5 hours leading to the discovery of the body. Security cameras are being checked and their files being retrieved as they spoke. Jaemin nods along to all of this, knowing they can’t take all of it as completely true. Step number two: Believe no one. </p><p>Only the torso is left. All four limbs are gone, no trace to be found anywhere near. The head was smashed in, the dark, fleshy mess framed with stringy black hair. Skin was mostly peeled off, cut almost expertly. It’s held up by chains looped through some of the bones that were exposed, such as the clavicles and several random ribs. Whoever did this took great lengths to hide the identity, and yet displayed it for all the world to see.</p><p>“What do you think it is this time?” Park Jisung, a particularly excelling intern, asks him. He’s already allowed to go to crime scenes, and his primary role was to bag evidence. Carrying a box most likely full of evidence bags, he had crouched down near where Jaemin was, careful not to disturb anything.</p><p>“Can’t tell,” is the only reply from the crime scene photographer. Indeed, it would be hard to tell with this amount of damage to the body. Further examination at the lab would be able to help, but to what extent, Jaemin does not know. </p><p>So far, he doesn’t see any particular entry or exit wounds in vital areas, however that may still change after the post-mortem. From what he observes, there also seems to be a re-arranging of some of the organs, as if they were either replaced or dug out to retrieve something. There also seems to be the remnants of a tattoo near the pelvis area, although the pattern is indiscernible. He takes several photos of that and the gaping cavity in the torso. </p><p>The rain has left droplets on the body, as well as everything else, and it was going to be difficult to retrieve most of the evidence unmarred. Albeit only a light shower was recorded in this area, it still could have washed away something vital. Jaemin himself was careful not to shift anything around too much, as the droplets may disturb any evidence left. He asks Jisung if somebody had already gone to check the nearby drains. Even the smallest pieces of evidence are important. The intern nods, so Jaemin says that they should check it again.</p><p>Jaemin lifts her head to look around. There are still people everywhere, so he pretends that they’re not there. He stares at the path that he took to get to here. It was not the easiest vantage point from the street, so it was assumed the safest route to the body. No footprints were found anywhere, but whether or not they were erased by the rain or the wind is still something that no one here was sure of. The grass could probably have more evidence, since it does not so easily shift the way that sand does, and the investigators were there, carefully going through every square inch. </p><p>He looks back at the body still hanging from the monkey bars. It’s an adult body, which would mean that it’s rather hefty. Some people are capable of lifting that weight without difficulty, but in many situations, a bit of dragging would be involved. There should be drag marks somewhere, or maybe a corner that was caught on something? He would have to look through all the photos later.</p><p>Before he realizes it, their chief medical examiner is beside him, pulling his gloves on. “Hey there, Jaem.”</p><p>Bowing his head, he greets, “Morning, hyung.”</p><p>“Not a great way to start a Saturday morning, huh?” The medical examiner sighs, taking a long, hard look at the corpse. “Sorry you had to come in on your one off day.”</p><p>“It’s okay, hyung.” Jaemin gives a smile. “Stuff like this doesn’t have off days.”</p><p>Dr. Kim nods, corners of his mouth tilting up. “Here, Jaem, feel this.”</p><p>His hand goes up to feel at where the arm was cut off. The bone feels smooth, as if the cutting was done with no hesitation, the precision of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. It feels like the way that bones feel when they were cut in the lab, so sure and not even pausing to reflect. </p><p>His eyes train back to the sides of the sandbox playground. Two security cameras are pointed towards the area, their lights blinking steadily. Doing all of this would have taken time, so it's impossible that it wasn't caught somehow in the cameras, unless they were tampered with. That would have taken even more time, and by then, somebody should have been alerted about the movement here. It's not like this was far from the houses, or even the community guardpost. Very much in public, and very much like they wanted this to be seen.</p><p>Jaemin looks up at the streetlamps. All of them were a bit old and yellowed, but none of them seemed like they were broken or not turning on. They should have been on during the night, especially since there was some rain. Judging from the amount of blood that had pooled on the ground and the average velocity of the drops, the body had been there for at least 12 hours, according to some of the techs. People should still be awake by then, still wandering around probably. Somebody could have seen something, anything. </p><p>Twelve hours. That would be around 10 pm. Far as he could remember (before his entire consciousness blacked out), there wasn't any rain yet in this area. It was comforting to know that maybe not all the fresh evidence was washed away, some of it having the time to dry and stick onto the remains. Hoping like that wasn't going to help in this investigation though, so he pushed the thought down. </p><p>Assume nothing. None of this was true until they could prove it, and it was their job to find out exactly how they were going to do that. </p><p>“You’re thinking already,” Dr. Kim says, fingers prodding somewhere in between the ribs. “Penny for your thoughts?”</p><p>Wordlessly, he points to the streetlamps. The chief medical examiner follows with his gaze, and Jaemin can see him squint at them as if to see what he means.</p><p>“There was rain, but not before 10,” Jaemin explains. “This body has been here for about 12 hours now, right? No way those streetlamps would’ve been turned off if there was impending rain.”</p><p>When Dr. Kim turns back to face him. He nods in understanding, even when Jaemin doesn’t explain further.</p><p>The chief medical examiner calls on an investigator nearby, telling her, "Check the streetlamps. Get the interviews from the people at the guardpost and the houses nearby. The area should be sweeped of any scavengers that may have taken a bite of our victim or of any possible evidence." With that, the investigator nods briskly and sets off.</p><p>Dr. Kim finishes his first examination of the remains before he leaves it to the investigators for extraction and transportation. The body will have to be bagged and then transported very carefully with the entirety of the monkey bars set-up to the labs. More pictures will be taken there, as well as several examinations on the bars themselves before they can cut down the corpse. Even the entire sandbox would have to be dug out and cleared before the boundaries could be removed. They weren't going to miss a single thing.</p><p>Step three: Collect everything. Jaemin looks at all the evidence boxes being tucked into vans, looks at all the clipboards and notepads out as inventories are being taken. In situations like this, with barely any traces or distinct clues, nearly everything could be considered evidence. All of it will be sorted through and stored later, to be examined again and again by forensics experts at the laboratories.</p><p>He peels off his suit and gloves and folds them gently before handing them to a group of investigators. Then, he climbs into his car and drives towards the laboratory.</p><p>At a stoplight, he takes a deep breath and stares right ahead. He'd seen hundreds of murders, thousands of dead bodies by now. All of them were terrible in their own ways. Of course, detaching himself from the fact that those were human beings made it a little easier to deal with. It was work, and thinking about them far too much wasn't good. He had to do his job as efficiently as possible, to help give peace to the loved ones and to finally let the victims rest. </p><p>This, however, unsettles him in a way that hasn't happened in quite a while. It's not that he hasn't seen anything like it. In fact, he's seen worse. But the way it was done, the way it was displayed there like a message that was yet to be decoded, it just felt… wrong. Like they were already missing something so obviously presented to them. </p><p>It takes Jaemin a moment before he registers the honking of car horns behind him and he notices that the light has already turned green.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>Back at the laboratory, the monkey bars are gently set down so as not to jostle anything. The team encircles it, ready to perform their roles at the right time. A large pan was already underneath the whole set-up, ready to catch any and all evidence that falls to the ground. Slowly, the bag is unzipped to reveal the remains, and people get to work. </p><p>Jaemin is taking photos again, of the position of the body, the state of the monkey bars, and close-ups of the remains. He will use a program to try and reconstruct the face, and find a match in the system coupled with hair matches. The chains are also taken photos of, since the positioning and the methods would be reconstructed later. Soon, he might be able to simulate what happened. </p><p>Some are dusting the bars for any evidence. Of course, they come up with hundreds of fingerprints to be examined and matched later. There seem to also be traces of blood, which will be tested against the victim's own. With this being in a public place might mean that finding accurate matches would be difficult. The evidence may be too little or too inconclusive to really make a point, but for now, that's all they have.</p><p>Everyone steps back to let the x-ray generator go over the remains. The image is slowly appearing on a large screen opposite them, and some have huddled over to look. No bones were broken, at least, and apart from where the remains were chained up, it all looked relatively normal. Jaemin noted that there seemed to be some puncture wounds at some of the ribs, and informed the others. He took some final photos before the remains would be cut down.</p><p>The remains are supported by several hands as an autopsy table is wheeled underneath it. One member of the team procures a pair of bolt cutters, cutting down each chain carefully. Hands are on the chains to support the weight of the remains as it is slowly being released. Finally done, they lower it onto the table gently, supporting every part until it is laid flat. Some transfer the autopsy table to a different part of the room as the others continue to examine the monkey bars.</p><p>Jaemin stays with the team that will perform the autopsy. Dr. Kim is putting up the x-rays on the screen near them, and is also repeating what details they already know. Male, early thirties, torso weighs 55.57 lbs which would mean that he had weighed around 128 lbs. To have been able to get this to the middle of the playground, or to have even transported this from wherever he was cut up, and then proceeded to chain him to the monkey bars securely, would have proven to be difficult. </p><p>The chest is somewhat bound by twine, sewn together like a piece of meat in some places. Jaemin takes photos of the way that it criss-crosses like laces. Although the chest was already incised the way that most medical examiners would, it seemed like there was a measly attempt to close it before it was hung up. Some more cuts were made so that the chains could latch on to bone. It was all precise, not made by someone whose hands shook. Swabs of every cut was made, and even the twine holding it all together was swabbed. Carefully, the twine is cut and removed, collected into a tray to be examined later. </p><p>A member of the team collects swabs of the exterior of the corpse, especially in the approximate area that was where whatever was used to create the punctures could have entered. Using his scalpel, Dr. Kim opens the incision a little more, since it wasn't quite done in a way that would give him enough access to what he needs to see. Pulling the flesh back and clamping it down, they immediately see that the organs were definitely rearranged. He calls Jaemin over and let him document the positions of everything before anyone moves it. </p><p>Once done, Dr. Kim checks if there are any missing organs. Sure enough, the stomach and spleen were removed, the other organs made to fit the space that they vacated. It would have been odd, since they weren't as particularly expensive as the other organs that remained intact, until he notices a very important detail. </p><p>Even through the remaining blood in the cavity, it can be seen that the heart and the liver are damaged. They could only be 100% sure once they extract them, but right now, it’s obvious that they wouldn't be valuable to someone who harvested the victim's organs. He makes sure that the observations are noted before another medical examiner, Dr. Seo, could attempt to extract the remaining ones. </p><p>Using a magnifying glass that could be clamped onto the table, Jaemin looks at the puncture marks in the bone that he saw earlier. They are evenly spaced out, so small that they were barely noticeable right away. They also don’t seem deep, with no signs of actual staining around them, according to the medical examiner.</p><p>“Marks were done after the person died,” Dr. Kim remarks to the one taking notes. The punctures and the surrounding areas are swabbed as he counts the ribs that had the marks. One, two, three, four ribs, not necessarily in a particular sequence, and a few ribs between each one. Right now, it’s obvious that it wasn’t morse, although they originally thought it could be. Jaemin takes several shots of the marks and how they were positioned before they proceed.</p><p>Dr. Seo is examining the head, noting how the cracks of the skull weren’t stained. It means that the face was bashed in after the death, possibly right before it was displayed. Jaemin takes some shots of the shards before they could be pulled out to rest on a tray. Based on how it looks, a heavy, large object with a sharp edge could have been used. It all would be reconstructed later, to better see what could have been used to bash it in. </p><p>Cause of death could not be determined as of the moment, as there didn’t seem to be any fatal injuries. The toxicology reports would see if anything had been ingested, or as Dr. Kim considered, injected into the victim to cause their death. The heart and the liver will be examined as well, since it might also be possible that this person died of a natural death or at least was eased into it. </p><p>As they all peer at the puncture wounds again, something in the lab growls. It takes Jaemin a few moments before he realizes it was from his locker. Dr. Kim allows him to go to it, and Jaemin complies. Taking off his gloves, he starts walking to the corner. <em> Odd, </em> he thinks. <em> I don’t have that ringtone for anyone. </em> He retrieves his bag and roots through it until his fingers touch the cold metal of his phone. Pulling it out, he sees that he’s received a message from an unknown number. He looks at the number again, and realizes it's the same as the one that had miscalled him earlier.</p><p>Opening the text, it only shows two words: <b>FIND ME.</b></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i would love to know your thoughts on this! kudos, comments, bookmarks all appreciated~<br/>talk to me on <a href="https://twitter.com/bundoie">twt</a> or <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/evnsangcvlt">cc</a>!</p><p>also please inform me of any inaccuracies! i did do my research to the best of my abilities, but this is still a field i am not an expert in. i appreciate any suggestions to improve it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. spillage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How wrong could a missing persons scene be?</p><p>As he steps foot into the scene, his mind quickly answers his own question.</p><p>Very wrong.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Staring at those two words, Jaemin furrows his brows.</p><p>
  <b>FIND ME.</b>
</p><p><em> What exactly am I looking for? </em> he wonders, trying to rack his mind if he’s seen the number before today. People have always tried to contact him, demanding or begging for all sorts of things. There have been ridiculous requests, and some offensive ones that he didn’t hesitate deleting right away. He understands that people are anxious to know the truth, but he can’t give answers just like that. </p><p>This shouldn’t be any different from the crazed suspects that got a hold of his number somehow, those people that kept taunting his. As if he would not have the means to find out who they were and what they were up to. <em> You’ll never catch me, </em> they’d say. <em> You have absolutely no idea. </em></p><p>As if he would allow that.</p><p>But this, this isn’t quite like the others. It was eerie somehow, not any less taunting, but a lot more like they knew exactly what they were doing at that moment. Like they’re waiting patiently behind the other side of these walls, looking in somehow, knowing that everything is already there for them to see, but they just can’t. </p><p>
  <b>FIND ME.</b>
</p><p>The thing is, he couldn’t possibly be sure that whoever was texting this to him meant this particular situation. At least a dozen other cases are underway, all at various stages of evidence collection. Some have been put on hold for a week, some over a few months already. One can’t really rush this process, since their job was to find enough to be able to make a valid point. It’s not like they can settle for just anything and then take it to court. All of this has to hold.</p><p>Assume nothing.</p><p>If he replies, he would be risking far more than he’s ready to. One text message could be used to track him down, could be used to find out where he goes and what he does in those places. Jaemin had always stuck to a routine, and very rarely was that routine broken. Finding him wouldn’t be hard then. </p><p>Also, it’s not like he’s the only one at risk. With his profession, with the sheer amount of people he’s helped put behind bars, there must be more than a few out there ready to get to him, get to where it hurts the most. Jaemin always convinced himself that things weren’t always as cruel and fast-acting as his thoughts made them out to be, but with crimes like these happening so close to him, it wouldn’t seem irrational to think every now and then that anything could happen. </p><p>Replying to whoever this is would also show them that he’s willing to engage. These people will latch on to any opportunity to get in, to slide themselves into his life and make him feel like she is much lesser for not seeing. It has taken him some time to remember that his job is not to prove herself to them, but to bring the justice these victims deserve. He will not allow anyone to hinder him from that. </p><p>Believe nothing. </p><p>Jaemin looks over at the laboratory, taking in the sight of everyone working together. It was something that flowed so naturally now, with every single piece like cogs in a system. Every cog had its purpose, its own pace, and the whole operation wouldn’t be complete when one is omitted. A calm spread over each one as they worked, successfully detaching themselves from the situation. It is not their job to sympathize. They respected the body, as with any miniscule evidence they could collect, but emotions should not be at play here.</p><p>Emotions taint the scene, worse than anything else could.</p><p>“Mr. Na?” Dr. Seo calls, his voice soft but steady. He doesn’t turn around, hands gently pulling out the heart. Jaemin breaks away from his thoughts, proceeding to stuff his phone back into his bag.</p><p>Once he rejoins them, he pulls his gloves back on. “I apologize for the delay,” he says, head tilting as he looks into the cavity once more. Seeing some miniscule flakes dusting the intestines, he points them out to Dr. Kim as he retrieves his camera to take some shots of it.</p><p>“Did you get another one of those weird messages?” Dr. Seo asks, holding out a petri dish for Dr. Kim to put the flakes in. </p><p>Jaemin nods, watching as the medical examiner collects the flakes carefully. An intern covers the dish and sets it aside when he’s done. “These people just don’t know when to stop,” Dr. Kim says, using the magnifying glass to see if there were anything else they could retrieve from the remains before they extracted the organs. “Have your phone pinged later by Chenle.”</p><p>Zhong Chenle is one of their technological specialists. He went through security footage, tracked calls, texts, and messages on several different platforms, and even analyzed the coding of systems. In the past 3 years that he’s been working for them, he has helped with dozens, probably hundreds of cases, from the smallest ones to some of their bigger ones. The one who preceded him was great as well, but Chenle was on a completely different level. His eye for detail and his constant awareness of new trends among criminals have proven to be extremely useful in their investigations.</p><p>Also, he’s Dr. Seo’s son.</p><p>“I will,” Jaemin replies. Noticing some discoloration in the flesh surrounding the puncture wounds, he takes photos while they got swabs for it. Dr. Seo notes that it looked like it was something that happened post-mortem. While they’re swabbing the area, he decides that it was best to tell the doctor of what he observed earlier when he woke up. “I got a call from the same number at some point while I was sleeping.”</p><p>“Rather insistent, then,” Dr. Kim remarks. He’s busy checking the other puncture wounds for the same discoloration.</p><p>Humming, Jaemin moves to see if anything else seemed out of the ordinary. He pushes the message and his unconventional morning into a box in his mind, tucking it away for now.</p><p>Later, he’ll get to that later.</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>Holding a small box in his hands, Lan Zhan walks to one of the laboratories on a different floor. People are milling about, going in and out of offices and laboratories, a mix of labgowns, scrubs, and suits clothing them. Some greet him as they pass him, and he nods politely in reply. He doesn’t know most of them personally, but his time here has made him quite known amongst different people. D.I. Nakamoto emerges from one of the offices, a folder in his hands. He greets him, voice formal and restrained. Jaemin extends a hand to shake his, and he says “good day” before going on his way.</p><p>D.I. Nakamoto had handled many of the cases that they’ve had. He had a mind that picked up on whatever was mostly unnoticed, and he found other ways to look at situations so that they could better understand why and how it all happened. With a skill for getting into the minds of the criminals and unravelling all their plans, he was one of, if not the, most trusted inspectors now.</p><p>Jaemin hasn’t had the opportunity to see how he questions them. All he knows is that he is yet to find a criminal that doesn’t buckle under him.</p><p>For all of that, Nakamoto Yuta was a man who valued the safety and peace of people, and would do what it took to assure that. He cares, although it probably wasn’t in as warm a way as his husband cared about people. D.I. Nakamoto would fearlessly face trouble while still keeping a level head, and Jaemin admires that about him.</p><p>He was handling this case as well, and it was comforting to have him on their team. They were going to need his skills in something as initially baffling as this.</p><p>Reaching his destination, he knocks softly on the door. A friendly voice beckons him to come in. Opening the door, Jaemin is met by the friendly face of the forensic specialist. As he gently sets down the box, he starts to explain the situation.</p><p>"I would like you to get as much trace evidence from this as you can," he says after a summary of what had happened. "You don't have to prioritize it. I can wait."</p><p>A gentle hand touches the top of the box. "I'll get it done as soon as I can, Mr. Na. And the phone?"</p><p>Jaemin thinks of his cracked phone, sitting in an evidence bag at the top of the pile. Something happened last night, and whether or not it was related to any of this, he still had to check. Keeping it with him would only contaminate anything they could salvage from it.</p><p>"Same as always. Please tell me once you're done so I can give it to Chenle."</p><p>"Of course, Mr. Na."</p><p>He looks around the lab, rather small compared to where he usually works. Still, it was roomy enough to move in comfortably, while also housing a multitude of equipment and record books. They would need to go here every now and then to hand over what they have collected or receive results. It wasn't always this particular forensic specialist here, but Jaemin liked him best.</p><p>Promising him that they will hand over more of what they have collected soon, he takes his leave. His shoes make a soft clacking sound on the floor, and he focuses on that to distract himself. Far too many possibilities, none of which he wants to dwell on.</p><p>It would be better once he gets the results, he assures himself. Jaemin doesn't want his thoughts to cloud his judgment.</p><p>Once he gets into his car, he realizes he needs a new phone. Not just to replace his cracked one, but to maybe lessen the number of people contacting him. It's honestly the least he can do at this point.</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>There aren't any lights on when he opens the door. He doesn't see the umbrella in the holder or his sister's shoes by the door. After setting his bag down on a side table, he wanders into the kitchen. A little sticky note is stuck to the counter, his sister's loopy handwriting done in black ink.</p><p>
  <em> Uncle has a meeting. I have a dinner with some colleagues. I've ordered food for you, should arrive at 7. We'll be home before 9. </em>
</p><p>Jaemin smooths over the note with his fingers, before turning to go up the stairs. Once in his room, he sits on his bed, staring at his fresh sheets. He had stripped his bed bare earlier and put on new sheets. Slowly, he lowers his head onto a cool pillow, looking blankly ahead at his still-open door. It had been a long day, and a distant throbbing started at his temples. A part of him wanted to fully climb into bed and call it a night, but he still had things to do.</p><p>Just a few minutes, he tells himself, letting his eyes flutter closed.</p><p>He’s awoken by the sound of their doorbell. Scrambling up and hurriedly patting his hair to check if it was messy, he goes down to answer the door. The clock near the dining table reads 7:05. Must be the food, then.</p><p>Opening the door, he’s met with a package delivery guy. His cap is pulled down rather low, but his eyes are bright under them.</p><p>“Package for Park Jihyo?” he asks, peering at the box. Jaemin nods, taking the device that’s offered to him. He signs in his sister’s stead, receiving the small box when he returns the device.</p><p>As he closes the door behind him, he reads the receipt stuck to the box. It only has his sister’s name and address, and no return address. Jaemin purses his lips. The last time his sister had gotten a package like this, she told Jaemin that it was confidential. Of course, he didn’t probe further, leaving the room so that the lawyer could look over the contents in peace.</p><p>Careful not to jostle the contents, he carries it into his sister’s home office. Flipping the lights on, Jaemin notices that the pile of papers and folders here increased since the last time he went in. A coffee cup is on one of the shelves, no doubt from one of Jihyo’s many late nights spent going over the documents.</p><p>Jaemin had just put the box down on the dark wooden desk when the doorbell rang again. This time, it really is the food delivery guy, handing him a warm paper bag that smells of dumplings and fried rice. He thanks him and tips him, cradling the paper bag to his chest as he closes the door.</p><p>As he eats, his eyes scan their home. It feels empty without his uncle reading in an armchair and his sister putting more food into his bowl. Not that this was the first time that he was left alone here, what with his uncle’s many meetings with the council or the papers that he had to go through, and with his sister’s ridiculously busy schedule researching and talking to clients. It’s just that Jaemin was so used to seeing them, their conversations almost always monotonous but nevertheless comforting.</p><p>It’s kind of like when you come home after a while of not being there. Nothing really changed, or maybe the smallest thing did, but it has this unsettling feeling that you can’t shake. Coming home to an empty, even quieter home wasn’t necessarily new, but it wasn’t a feeling he liked. </p><p>After finishing his food and washing up, he pulls out the box from his backpack. It houses his new phone, sleek black and fitting in his hand easily. He powers it on, immediately putting in the numbers of his uncle and his sister. The others could wait another day. </p><p>He sends a quick text to his sister, telling her that a package arrived. Putting his phone down, he roots around in his drawers for a blank notebook. Luckily, he has been receiving notebooks as gifts for as long as he can remember, and he takes one out.</p><p>Jaemin opens the notebook to the first page, smoothing it out before putting his pen to it. Methodically, he plots out the punctures he saw in the corpse earlier. He would need to cross-check of course, but he’s fairly confident that he remembers them clearly.</p><p>It was odd, to say the least. He’d seen puncture wounds a bit like that before. They were either used to pump something into the victim’s system or it was taking something out. But the way that the punctures were arranged didn’t seem like it was from a machine nor did they have any particular pattern that he could see. Even the most reckless person would not have placed them as randomly as that.</p><p>Other than that, it was far too many to just be unintended. Depending on what was used or what was being put into the body, one would not need that much. Unlike in incidents of repeated stabbing, it didn’t seem to target actual internal organs, and concentrated on the bone. The victim would not have bled out enough from those wounds for any of them to be fatal, so doing it without a purpose would just have wasted time. That, and the fact that the victim was already dead once they were done.</p><p>He looks over her work. Definitely not morse, and not anything he’s familiar with. For a while, he tries arranging them all horizontally, and then vertically, to see if any pattern comes up. Circling the ones that seem similar, he thinks he might be onto something.</p><p>That hope is dashed soon, when he realizes he can’t quite form anything significant from it. Tapping his pen on the paper, he looks out his window. He tries a few other combinations, like counting every dot in a set and comparing them to the number of strokes in a character, in every writing system he knows. When that doesn’t work, he reverses them, yet still comes up with nothing.</p><p>After a while of that, he decides to get up to stretch a little and take a little visit to his sister’s office again. There are several books on cryptology on her shelves, so Jaemin stacks them up in his arms. He remembers that his uncle has some as well in his own office, and he makes a mental note to borrow them in the morning.</p><p>Setting down the books on his desk, he sits back down. Jaemin thumbs through the first one, going first to the section of ancient codes.</p><p>Clever. That’s how people who kill like this want to be. Clever, so that they could have the satisfaction of mocking the people who investigate it. They do everything to have a process that only they could truly understand, like a scandalous secret that thrilled them to keep. It thrilled them even more when they felt that the secret was almost out and yet everyone on the case was so wrong.</p><p>To be able to hold something over the people trying to figure out what happened, that power that they think they have, it’s intoxicating.</p><p>Most of them still fall.</p><p>His phone pings with a text notification, jarring him out of her thoughts. As he reads it, his eyebrows furrow together.</p><p><b>I don’t think I was expecting one.</b> his sister had replied.</p><p>Unlocking his phone to text back, Jaemin feels his frown deepen. <b>Should I get rid of it?</b></p><p>Not even a few minutes later, his screen lights up with another notification. <b>I’ll check it when I get home in half an hour.</b></p><p>Just before he could go back to figuring out the set of punctures, he hears the front door open. He almost rushes down to help his uncle with his coat and things. Park Chanyeol greets him, handing him his briefcase as he takes off his shoes.</p><p>“I apologize for coming home so late, Jaemin,” he says, sitting down on the couch and unbuttoning his cuffs.</p><p>Jaemin gingerly puts his briefcase into a cubbyhole they have in the living room. “It’s alright uncle. You had some matters to attend to.”</p><p>Chanyeol starts rubbing his temples, so Jaemin hands him the bottle of white flower oil. “Have you eaten, uncle?” he asks, already moving to go get him food if need be.</p><p>Nodding, he answers, “Yes. I would appreciate some tea, though.”</p><p>His nephew doesn’t waste time going to the kitchen to prepare the tea. He makes enough for three, with the tea that Jihyo had brought back from one of her trips. Pouring two cups, he brings them out to the living room, handing one over to his uncle gently. He thanks him, inhaling the scent of the tea before taking a sip.</p><p>Jaemin watches as the crease between his brows gradually as he drinks even more of his tea. At some point, he moves to sit down next to him, rubbing the tension out of his shoulders and scalp. With the numerous events in the university coming up soon coupled with the influx of applications being sent in, it was understandable that his uncle would be this exhausted on a near daily basis. He feels a pang of guilt as he remembers how much of a mess he looked earlier, and how that did not help at all with his many headaches.</p><p>Not long after they start drinking their tea, the front door opens again, the sound of heels on their floors distinct and familiar. Jihyo’s pretty head peeks through the side, greeting them brightly. Her brother noticed the slight slump in her shoulders, and marvelled at how she still had the energy to be as bright as always.</p><p>The lawyer takes her place on the couch, massaging their uncle’s hand that must be aching after signing papers. Jaemin pours another cup of tea for his sister, who smiles at him as he gives it. The photographer sits in the chair opposite them, reaching over to get the bottle of white flower oil and rubbing some on his temples as well.</p><p>“Long day?” his sister asks.</p><p>Jaemin should be the one asking that. He doesn’t say anything though, just nods and puts the bottle back on the table.</p><p>Later, the siblings walk to the lawyer’s home office. Jaemin lingers at the door, lets his sister look the box over. She doesn’t seem to find anything suspicious about it, but she still handles it with the utmost care.</p><p>Setting it back down, Jihyo looks straight into her brother’s face. “It could very well be harmless, but we can have it x-rayed tomorrow to be sure.”</p><p>The photographer nods sagely, looking down at the floor. His sister notices that he seems uneasy, and comes up to him.</p><p>“Was the case today that bad?”</p><p>Jaemin doesn’t know quite what to reply. It was like any other case, confusing and gruesome and nonsensical for now. Today’s case wasn’t something absolutely beyond what he had experienced before.</p><p>It was just...too much maybe? Not just the case, but his entire morning and part of his night. Perhaps he was still experiencing the after effects of the night before, and it weighed him down. Thinking about all of these things was draining him fast.</p><p>In any case, he still didn’t say anything about that, choosing instead to wish his sister a good night before going up to his room.</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>"The police radiologist said you can pick the box up today," Jaemin says quietly over breakfast. It has been a little over a week, and there wasn't much progress yet in the findings on the case.</p><p>Jihyo hums into her cup of tea. "Was no other trace evidence found on it?" </p><p>"Completely clean," the photographer answers, finishing the last spoonful of his breakfast. He was also mildly disappointed when he was told that news, but there was nothing they could do about it.</p><p>"No talking about work while eating," their uncle scolds, folding his newspaper neatly and setting it down beside his plate.</p><p>The siblings apologize and go back to their meals. Jaemin quietly sips his coffee, casting a glance towards his sister. The lawyer is going through the sections of the newspaper that their uncle was done with, humming softly at every page.</p><p>After the dishes are washed and put away, Chanyeol stands up to leave for the university. Jaemin helps him into his coat, handing him his briefcase and umbrella. Their uncle says goodbye to them both, and Jihyo closes the door behind him gently.</p><p>Settling back into their seats, Jihyo turns on the TV again. It’s become a habit now, and part of Jaemin thinks that his sister just needs a bit of background noise to ground her as she goes through whatever case she has. He doesn’t mind really, especially since they’re both staying updated while doing their own thing.</p><p>Jaemin retrieves the notebook and pen from a side table, eternally placed within reach if he ever has the time or the energy to try the code again. In the days that have passed, he managed to request for a copy of the images to take home, and cross-checked everything. All seemed to be in order, so his memory served him well.</p><p>Still, though, he wasn’t anywhere close to decoding it. He had already borrowed the cryptology books from their uncle’s study, and gone through a whole book without much progress. Jihyo had promised that she would help when she found the time, but that time has not arrived yet.</p><p>Dr. Seo had tried his hand at it as well, his forehead creasing as he was focusing. He had taken classes on languages when their anthropology department had offered, so he ran the code through all the languages he knew. Chenle had to remind his father to eat his already-cold lunch.</p><p>At some point, Jaemin did think to ask Chenle, since he had proven time and again that he was good at figuring patterns out from seemingly random data. He said that he would love to help, but it might be pushed back from all the work that was already piled on his plate. Jaemin understood completely, and didn’t ask again.</p><p>The photographer feels a hand over his own. He looks up from the page to his sister looking at the screen. Turning his head, Jaemin sees that there seems to be another breaking news story. In big, blocky letters, the words “MAN MISSING” flashes at the bottom.</p><p>Not his division, Jaemin thinks immediately. A small afterthought crosses his mind though, echoing “what if it’s connected?” He’s about to push it down when his phone rings. D.I. Nakamoto’s name flashes on the screen. Jihyo puts the TV on mute.</p><p>“We’re gonna need you here,” he says with no greeting whatsoever, his voice the usual steely hardness he’s gotten used to.</p><p>“I’m afraid I don’t handle that,” he replies politely, but something heavy is starting to form in his chest. His eyes are still on the TV screen, watching the flurry of people and their mouths that move soundlessly.</p><p>It’s silent for a few beats before the inspector says anything else. “Mr. Na, I think you’re going to be very much needed here.”</p><p>Something about his voice, steady as always but tinged with something that Jaemin couldn’t quite identify, made his own heart race a little. The only times he was called to situations such as these, the missing people left more than a note and a few footsteps. Taking in the blurry photo of the missing woman flashed on the screen, he feels himself clutch his phone a little tighter.</p><p>“Where do I need to go?”</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>Twenty minutes later, he finds herself in a part of town that he’s never quite explored much before. The streets are narrower, and the houses are small and cramped together. All of them seem rickety, and several dirty puddles everywhere looked ominously dark. Here, the eyes trail after his every move, wary and sizing up his foreign presence. Not much of a ruckus was made, but the silent tension bore down on Jaemin, making him feel a little uneasy.</p><p>He has to walk to the exact location on foot, parking his car near where some other familiar cars were parked. Jaemin soon realizes that he much prefers streets full of noise and life rather than this quiet observation of him. Forcing himself to keep going, he stares at every step he makes on the grimy streets.</p><p>News must travel fast here, he thinks to himself. Even with the police keeping the situation under wraps, this whole community could know about it in a couple of hours.</p><p>The crime scene photographer is still unsure what he’s supposed to expect when he arrives. Certainly a scene of some sort, but the possibilities are endless when it comes to exactly what it is. Dr. Kim and Dr. Seo have been called as well, along with several forensic specialists.</p><p>How wrong could a missing persons scene be?</p><p>As he steps foot into the scene, his mind quickly answers his own question.</p><p>Very wrong.</p><p>On a mostly empty, mostly bare piece of land sat a car at least 20 years old, the paint faded from the sun or chipping away, half the windows down and the other half splattered with a very familiar dark liquid. Tarps were already laid out on the ground to collect whatever might fall out of the car when it’s opened. Some squares of the ground were already cut out and laid on trays, the staining on them dark and sparkling from dampness. Cameras are already clicking away, and people from both the media and the community were buzzing about.</p><p>As he approaches, Dr. Seo’s face seems even more sullen. He’s known for keeping a mostly neutral or almost hopeful face as he examined crime scenes, but today’s crime scene made him sober up. White gloved hands collected evidence determinedly, his eyes colder than Jaemin’s ever seen them.</p><p>“Mr. Na,” he greets, voice a little rough. Jaemin was used to his soft “good morning”s, bright even amidst some of the worst that they’ve seen. A part of him wanted to reach out, perhaps comfort him somehow, but it’s inappropriate at the time.</p><p>“Dr. Seo,” he greets back, letting his eyes roam over the surface of the car. It has a multitude of dents and scrapes, with spots from the years of being used. At least a dozen more cars that were just as beat up as this were scattered around the community, so it wasn’t something necessarily new. “Where’s Dr. Kim?”</p><p>The forensic head uses his chin to gesture at the cluster of houses. “He’s taking evidence from the house of the missing person.”</p><p>Jaemin asks for a briefing of what they’ve found so far as he takes photos of what’s under the car. “Car was discovered this morning, by the brother of the missing man. The brother uses it to go to work, and he was frightened at the sight of the splatters. Went to wake his brother, found him gone, what seems like blood on his floor and sheets. Called the cops immediately,” Dr. Seo explains, using tweezers to pull a scrap of fabric from the car door.</p><p>“Is it blood?” Jaemin asks, eyeing the smears on the car body. They almost blend in with the rust and the dark paint color.</p><p>Dr. Seo nods sagely, saying that they tested a sample earlier. He stands up, sighing a little. “It’s not just splatters.”</p><p>Brown eyes fix on his gray ones, questioning. Jaemin stands up from his crouching position as well, tilting his flashlight so that he could see into the car.</p><p>He’s hit by the strong metallic tang of blood as he peers in. The faded gray interiors are coated with the dark red liquid, smeared and splattered and pooling in some places. There seems to be some papers, a blanket, some other unidentifiable things under all of it, all stained and abandoned. Very few spots are saved from the carnage, and it didn’t seem like anyone who was in that car would still be alive at this point.</p><p>“If whoever was in this car managed to survive all of that, I would give them half my savings,” Dr. Seo remarks. Jaemin is a little relieved that a part of his usual self is back, but he still sounds distraught.</p><p>“And no body?” Getting a body out of that and dumping it somewhere should have left some sort of anything that they could work with.</p><p>“No easily observable trace as far as our perimeters go.”</p><p>The second crime scene in less than two weeks with just carnage left behind and no obvious way to and from and the particular location. No drag marks, no staining, no footsteps. Identification is made difficult, although at least they had a lead with this one. A public spectacle, made to be seen and talked about.</p><p>Staring at the faint handprints on the door handles and the driver-side window, he asks something he doesn’t usually venture to ask. It’s too personal at this point, distracting him from the fact that he should remove himself and his emotions from the scene. But something about the scene before him, something about the brutality without even a body to work with, pushes him to ask.</p><p>“What’s the name of the missing man?”</p><p>Seo Youngho has just finished talking to an investigator about how best to transport the vehicle when he asks. Not taking off his face mask, he turns to face him.</p><p>“Huang Renjun.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i would love to know your thoughts on this! kudos, comments, bookmarks all appreciated~<br/>talk to me on <a href="https://twitter.com/bundoie">twt</a> or <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/evnsangcvlt">cc</a>!</p><p>also please inform me of any inaccuracies! i did do my research to the best of my abilities, but this is still a field i am not an expert in. i appreciate any suggestions to improve it!</p><p>next few updates are going to come one after the other, as they just need some editing before going up~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They have a match.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> There’s a familiar face peering into Jaemin’s dorm room window. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "What are you doing here? It’s late,” he says, sliding the glass open. The chilly breeze of the outside kisses his skin, blowing his pale blue curtains about. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’s met with a smile so bright it rivalled the moon shining her silvery light on everything. “Was bored, so I figured I could find someone to talk to.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jaemin feels his face crumple. Crossing his arms, he levels his gaze at the boy so casually perched at his 8th-floor dorm room window. “I doubt I should be the first one you go to for that.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Shrugging, the boy sighs. He has the audacity to look like he’s content to stay there, at such a late hour. The smile on his face doesn’t dim as he moves to sit on his windowsill. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What are you saying? Well yeah, you’re a little quiet, but that’s fun in a different way!” A finger reaches out to boop Jaemin’s nose. He coos, like Jaemin is the most adorable little thing he’s ever seen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jaemin takes a considerably large step back, distancing himself from the boy. That earns him a pout, but the boy doesn’t seem like he is actually offended by any of it. Instead, he just positions himself a little better, the clouds on his pajama set looking even prettier in the light of his bedside lamp. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tilting his head, he stares at Jaemin with his eyes like molten silver. “Come on, sit here with me! I have this story to tell about this super weird thing I saw on campus-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “No,” Jaemin says, firmly. “It’s past curfew. You should be sleeping.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s the boy’s turn to cross his arms, huffing. “You’re really no fun.” He shifts himself so that his body is ready to go back down. Soon, only his head and his hands can be seen from where Jaemin was standing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tomorrow then!” he says, that grin unwavering even as he bids him goodbye. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In the next second, his head disappears as well. Jaemin moves to close the window, looking down tentatively to see if he could still spot the boy. There was no trace of him anywhere, as if he disappeared in the shadows. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His glass window clicks shut right after. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>Opening the folder from one of their forensic scientists, Jaemin clears his mind. </p><p>He had already skimmed over these when they were first handed to him, but is only now reading them fully. Nothing overly shocking or particularly new, mostly just confirming what Dr. Kim and Dr. Seo had already found. There were the toxicology reports, which he thumbs over. No traces of a drug were found in the first tests, but they're running through everything again. </p><p>It’s a mildly cool Saturday, his bathroom mirror and his windows fogging up a little. Jaemin is standing in front of a whiteboard they keep in their home, pinning his notes and his copy of the photos to it. He's seen the photographs of the punctures and the hanging victim at least a dozen times since they were given to him, and he is still not any closer to understanding what any of it means. His fingers reach up to tap on each set of markings, as if he could somehow get an idea if he touched it. </p><p>"Inconsistency in the spacing indicates it was done by hand, not a machine," he says into his voice recorder, eyes going over the image. "Discoloration around the wounds is from repeated insertion and exposure to the elements in the area where the corpse was held." <em> Click. </em> </p><p>Jaemin pins up another photo, along with a sticky note. Written with black ink are the words "blood pooling". </p><p><em> Click. </em> "Body was laid flat at the time of death, and afterwards. Significant pooling is noted at the back of the torso." </p><p>He traces the outline of the bones in the next few photos. The cut had been precise, done without an ounce of hesitation. Reports that were sent to him said that the cuts were made by a particularly sharp saw, slicing through like the bones were made of nothing. This wasn't a desperate attempt, he thinks. They knew what they were doing. </p><p>The last time he'd seen a cut like that was from a time that one of their medical examiners had to cut through bone for them to see the development of bone cancer in the victim. It was made with a surgical saw, the striations barely visible as it was done with a practiced hand. Dr. Kim himself had done the other bone, holding the two pieces under a microscope. </p><p>Slightly more visible striations were present with the victim, but they still were done with a certain amount of skill. All of them were done after death, the limited staining on the cuts showing that. </p><p>Possibly has medical experience, he scribbles next to the photos. Definitely helps narrow down the possible suspects, although they would need to find more evidence. </p><p>He flips through the toxicology reports. Jaemin remembers the state of the heart and the liver when they first opened up the torso. Poison wasn't in his system, but an alarming amount of epinephrine was. The human body would not be able to produce that amount, even under distress. It would explain the damage to the heart, and may have ultimately killed the victim. </p><p>Death by being revived? Not an uncommon practice, as they had seen it done with torture victims of the military. Usually, they would inflict enough pain onto the person or shock them until their heart seized. Afterwards, they would inject the person with adrenaline until their heart beat again, and they would go through the actions again. The heart would eventually go into full cardiac arrest, and would not be revived no matter what they did. </p><p>It was cruel, a practice that Jaemin had always turned up his nose at. He always hated the thought of prolonging one's suffering, and it was unnecessary in his eyes. </p><p>Not that he could have a say in what other humans did. </p><p>Without the limbs of the victim, they would not know if he was held down or already unconscious when he died. His heart definitely shows a struggle, even though his body may not have been responsive anymore. </p><p>
  <em> Knows the revival method.  </em>
</p><p>Jaemin’s eyes flicker from the photos of the first victim to the ones of the car. The whole thing was taken back to the labs, x-rayed and swabbed and examined. The car seemed to be in working condition, albeit a bit old. No sign of breaking in could be seen, so either the victim knew the suspect or the suspect had a key. Several items were pulled out of the carnage, each one being taken to the forensic labs to be examined. Photos of the interior were already developed, and he pins them to his board. </p><p>Samples of the blood turned up with two distinct sources, so at least two people were definitely in the car at the time. They were already being run through the system, as well as the bloody fingertips on the windows and the door handles. No body had been found as of yet, and the investigators are still combing the area for any trace. </p><p>Whoever this person was, they weren't killed (if they were) the same way as the first victim. Nothing has been found to connect the two, other than the possibility of the second case to also involve a man in his 30's. </p><p>Opening another folder on his desk, Jaemin ruffles through the contents. Newspaper clippings from that day are held together by a paperclip. </p><p><b> <em>Man, 32, disappears,</em> </b> was a common one, repeating across at least half a dozen different print sources. There's the singular blurry photo of the man that the journalists managed to get, plus several photos of the car. Distraught brother claims "nobody had anything against them". </p><p>He pins the clippings up next to the photos. </p><p><b> <em>Gang attack in the metro</em> </b>, one read. </p><p>Jaemin taps the words with his fingers. Gang attack…one man dead, one missing… no trace… </p><p>He has just written <b>involvement?</b> with bright red ink in the middle of it all when there's a knock at his door. Jihyo comes in after she's granted permission, and she strides over to her brother's whiteboard in her casual shift dress. Dark amber eyes scan every detail, Jihyo's hands behind her back as she's looking it over. </p><p>"You've been busy," she remarks, taking another newspaper clipping that said <b>City on high alert after two gruesome crimes</b> and putting it on the board. </p><p>The forensic specialist nods, letting the lawyer make changes she deems necessary. Some of it is moved around, some taken away. "I cannot be idle," Jaemin says, handing a marker to his sister. </p><p>"Resting is good for you, as well, you know," Jihyo counters. </p><p>Jaemin levels a gaze at his sister, as if he wanted to say something, but chose not to. Even as Jihyo was not looking at her directly, she felt the look he gave her. </p><p>Raising her hands in defeat, she laughingly says, "Okay, okay, I don't have any right to say that." </p><p>Careful not to touch anything else, Jihyo stays in the room, perusing the many books her brother kept there. Some had gained a permanent residence in the room, as Jaemin used them often, neatly stacked on a table or arranged on the shelves. Remembering how Jihyo used to help him solve the puzzles in the morning paper when they were young, a part of Jaemin wishes she could help now, give guidance where he needs it and assurance when he can't find the answer. </p><p>She can't, of course, so Jaemin continues his work on his own. </p><p>His sister also wordlessly points at his laptop in the corner, open to a program he uses to run through the database. Jaemin explains that he’s matching some of the data they collected from the corpse, like fingerprints, medical records, tattoos, all of that. He really could’ve waited until Monday, but the sooner they got answers, the better. Jihyo nods in understanding, continuing her round of exploring the bedroom.</p><p>After a while of that, his sister suggests that he take a break, and he thinks it's best if he does. </p><p>Sugar pancakes and tea are waiting for them downstairs, undoubtedly prepared by their uncle. Park Chanyeol was nowhere to be found, probably already in his study. The siblings sink into their seats, taking a pancake each and pouring tea. Neither talk for a while, just enjoying their snack as the rest of the pale sunlight makes its way into their home. </p><p>Jihyo has barely finished her last bite when her eyes light up. Her brother looks at her questioningly, and she holds up a finger in response. She chews a little quicker, and swallows before she stands up from the table. </p><p>The forensic specialist follows her with his gaze as she goes to the living room, hands going over the contents of the shelves. In a few minutes, she's found what she's looking for, pulling it out and setting it down on their coffee table with a thud . </p><p>A hand beckons Jaemin to sit on the sofa. He doesn't hesitate, settling into the patterned brocade cushions. His own hands run over the box gently, trying to see what it is. </p><p>It’s a pale blue, the slightly embossed clouds swirling over the entire surface. A white card is on the cover of the box, the words "SM University" printed in a darker blue. Jihyo looks at him expectantly, a smile spreading across her face. </p><p>"I just thought it would be nice to go back to those days for a bit," Jihyo begins, soft and warm. "When we weren't quite the people we are now." </p><p>Not quite the hollowed shells we are now, Jaemin thinks, but doesn't say. They both know it. Their jobs have drained whatever life force they still had. Both of them chose it, but things aren't always what they seem they will be. </p><p>Jihyo opens the box, setting the cover down gingerly on the table. She then cradles it, encourages her brother to peer into it and pull something out. </p><p>Pale hands grab onto the very first thing on top of all the stuff in the box. It's their diplomas, the paper a little yellowed but still intact in the plastic sleeves. Jaemin stares at them for a bit before putting them down. The next things he pulls out is a bundle of envelopes, carefully opened and still smelling faintly of perfume. Farewell letters, mostly for his sister and some for him. His fingers brush over a familiar yellow one, one that he vaguely remembers se put into her coat pocket, close to his heart.</p><p>“I remember that one,” Jihyo says, holding a hand out so she could borrow it for a while. Jaemin hands it over, watches as his sister taps her fingers over the flap. “You came home holding it to you, and that was the brightest I’ve ever seen your face.”</p><p>Jaemin stares at it, then slowly raises his eyes to her sister’s smiling face. Something tugs at his heart, but he’s not quite sure what it is.</p><p>“It’s been a while since that,” the lawyer adds, quieter now. She returns the envelope to Jaemin’s hands, and continues to root around in the box.</p><p>Looking down at the sunshine yellow envelope in his hands, Jaemin breathes deeply. <em> I don’t remember.  </em></p><p>His sister then pulls out a hefty book, in the same light blue of the box, the cloud patterns outlined in silver. As she’s about to open it, Jaemin’s phone pings in his pocket.</p><p>He apologizes as he takes it out to view the message. Jihyo says it’s alright, already moving to put the book back in the box. Sitting back, she waits as the forensic specialist reads the text.</p><p>It’s from his computer program, an automatic notification he had set.</p><p>They have a match.</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>He places a folder with the logo of the institution into each of their hands. Inside are more findings. Dr. Seo peers at the multitude of screens in front of them, reading from the file every now and then. </p><p>On one screen are the photos of the corpse. Beside that is a reconstructed model of the skull, which took quite some time because of the damage, the impacted surface shaded in red. After that is a larger screen that displays a photo of the closest match they could find on the database, with side-to-side comparisons of the tattoo that was found on the victim and the tattoo that person has. It also shows how the DNA samples from both have a 90% match.</p><p>Dr. Kim opens his file, reading the details out loud. "Lee Taeyong, 34." He looks at the enlarged photo on the screen. The man in the photo has strong features, the defined jaw and eyes that could pierce through. "A dance teacher in a high school." </p><p>"Reported missing a week before the body was discovered," Dr. Seo continues, bringing his face close to the screens. </p><p>"No previous health problems, at least in five months leading to his death," Jaemin adds, looking at the photos of the damaged organs. </p><p>"Plenty of time to have something happen to him," Dr. Seo mumbles, thumbing through the documents. </p><p>Jaemin nods. Both doctors turn to face him. "Were these given to Detective Nakamoto?" </p><p>D.I. Nakamoto's department would do a more extensive background check on him, checking to see if he had any other jobs before his current one, any possible connections to the other two incidents in the past few weeks. Another job of theirs would be to contact the next of kin, to inform them of the death and ask a few questions. </p><p>He nods before pulling up a model of the victim, this time with the limbs attached. Red marks the places and the angles of how the limbs were cut, each side mirroring the other perfectly. It all seems very precise, as if it was done with something mechanical. </p><p>Next, photos of the striations are pulled up. Jaemin has seen them dozens of times at this point, and they’re nothing new now. On a hunch, Dr. Seo had pulled out some photos of similar cases from before, but none seem to match the particular pattern seen in this case. Jaemin makes a mental note to review those other cases with both of them, in the event that there are other similarities. </p><p>Looking at the screen again, he repeats the name to himself. Lee Taeyong. He squints at the photo of the man on the screen, taking in the defined features. Lee. </p><p>Suddenly with an idea, he looks up the school that the man used to teach at. Within a few minutes, the school logo is pulled up, along with a photo of the man with his students, presumably at a contest.<em> Neo High bags the championship, </em> the text at the bottom of the photo said. </p><p>Dr. Kim strides over to where he's standing close to the screen. He doesn't say anything yet, waiting for him to continue. </p><p>"Wait, I’ll try to look for photos of the faculty in the last 3 years," he says, receiving nods in reply. This time, it takes a little longer, but sure enough, a handful of images appear, some with faces so tiny they're almost unrecognizable. </p><p>"You have something," Dr. Seo says softly, more a statement than a question. Searching the faces still, Jaemin doesn't answer for a few moments. </p><p>Finally finding what he was looking for, Jaemin steps closer, touching the screen to zoom in. It's a relatively clear photo, pretty recent as well, with a small group of the faculty of the school. In the zoomed-in shot are two people, one being the victim and the other being another familiar person, smiling brightly with their arms around each other. </p><p>He can practically feel Dr. Kim's stare. </p><p>"That's my sister," he remarks quietly, almost to himself. Jaemin turns to them, trying to calm his breathing. "My sister knew him." </p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>Jaemin stares at the phone in his hands. It's been at least an hour since he was given the go to call his sister and tell her about the identity of the victim. He still hasn't done anything but turn his phone on and off again, looking at his sister's name and number over and over. </p><p>In fact, he isn't sure he wants to tell her. He only now remembers that Jihyo had not just talked about Lee Taeyong, a fellow teacher at a high school not far from where they used to live, but she had also introduced Jaemin to him. When Jaemin came to pick his sister up from the school or when Jihyo invited him to have lunch with them, he had already met and talked to Lee Taeyong, albeit briefly. </p><p><em> He's my friend, </em> Jihyo had said, her smile bright as day. <em> Jaemin, come meet him.  </em></p><p>Jaemin thinks back to the body in the morgue. Nothing like the man he had seen a few times, dignified and intelligent, carrying himself with a quiet integrity. At first glance, he had seemed to be vastly different from his sister, all hard angles and stern face. But even in the short amount of time he spent with Lee Taeyong, he had come to understand why he and his sister got along. </p><p>"I don't want to be the one to do it," he had said earlier, trying to argue that he wasn't the best candidate at breaking the news. <em> I can't bear to hear my sister be… sad, </em> he didn't say. </p><p>"You're her brother," Dr. Kim had said, as gently as possible. "There is nobody she trusts more than you." </p><p>As he looks down at his phone again, he heaves a deep sigh. The news would probably crush her, and he thinks about how much stress Jihyo is already under. To tell her that her friend has died in the middle of a workday… </p><p>But, Jaemin thinks, it's best that she knows. Maybe the attorney can help with identifying any of the man's habits, or who he interacted with. Maybe Jihyo  can help bring justice to her friend. </p><p>With fingers that resist trembling, Jaemin opens his phone and presses the call button. </p><p>Jihyo picks up halfway through the third ring. As always, her voice doesn't falter in its brightness, but Jaemin can hear the tinge of sleep deprivation in it. He thinks he feels a little prickle in his chest at that. </p><p><em> "Jaemin-ah! I wasn't expecting a call today." </em> He can hear his sister push her chair away from her desk, and a shuffling that must mean she's standing up. <em> "How are you?"   </em></p><p>For what feels like the longest time, Jaemin just fixes his gaze on the darker tiles of his office. "Noona," he begins, and he's not sure if he kept down the tiniest hitch in his voice. </p><p>Immediately, the attorney knows something is wrong. There's some more shuffling on her end mixed with silence from her, like she's adjusting herself to take in whatever Jaemin’s going to say. <em> "What happened, Jaemin?"  </em></p><p>The file on Jaemin’s desk is unopened, and he runs a finger over the printed logo. "Do you remember Lee Taeyong?" </p><p>At the mention of the name, Jihyo's tone shifts back to her bright one. <em> "Of course! He's a close friend. You've met him a few times already, right?"   </em></p><p>Jaemin nods, even as he can't be seen. "Yes, I have." </p><p><em> "Oh, why'd you call?" </em> she asks. <em> "Is he at the labs today?"  </em></p><p>When Jaemin doesn't answer, Jihyo's voice lowers. <em> "Is he in trouble?"  </em></p><p>"Noona," Jaemin says again, voice a little louder now. "The body we found a few weeks ago…" </p><p>He doesn't have to continue. The line goes quiet, and the forensic specialist can almost imagine his sister steady herself against her desk. Counting one, two, three beats, Jaemin waits for his sister to say anything. </p><p>If he's there right now, in Jihyo's almost-homey office, he could have at least let the lawyer hold his hand. He knew he isn't the best at comforting, but being there personally would have been better than not being there at all. On the line, he hears his sister take a shaky breath. </p><p><em>"How'd you–how'd you know?"</em> the lawyer asks, and no matter how strong Jaemin knew his sister to be, he still recognizes a tremor in her voice. </p><p>Jaemin looks at the cream folder on his desk, a stark contrast against the dark wood. "Dental records, the tattoo, a surgical wound from years ago. DNA is almost a perfect match." The words, usually spoken as matter-of-factly as possible, now leave an odd taste in his mouth. This was someone he knew, someone his sister cared about. </p><p>It’s not so simple to remove himself from it, after all.</p><p>When Jihyo stays silent again, Jaemin fights down the image of his sister crying. He doesn't remember the last time his sister cried, or if she cried at all since Jaemin had known her. It just wasn't an image he was used to, and to think that Jihyo may be doing it right now was far too much. </p><p>"I'm sorry," he offers, willing his voice to be soft. It's all he can say, really, and it wasn't much. </p><p>There's a deep breath on the other end. <em>"Oh Jaemin-ah,"</em> his sister coos, and Jaemin can almost feel her hands patting his shoulders. <em>"It's not your fault."</em> </p><p>The forensic specialist knows this, but he feels sorry all the same. </p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>The Lee home is situated in a rather closed-off area. In D.I. Nakamoto's car, he watches the gray, almost fortress-like homes pass by. It isn't necessarily quiet here, but it's still enough that it feels like there is tension somewhere, under the concrete and the bricks. </p><p>A lawn that's a bit overgrown surrounds the home, the blades of grass scratching at their ankles as they approach the door. The house is rather large, done in monotonous gray. An eerie silence wraps the home, and even D.I. Nakamoto hesitates. Jaemin exchanges a look with his sister, who nods once as if to assure him that it's fine. </p><p>Jaemin tries not to stare at his sister's tired eyes. </p><p>"It's usually like this," Jihyo explains, her gaze running over the earth-toned bricks. D.I. Nakamoto regards her with a wary look, but he doesn't say anything as he rings the doorbell. </p><p>No one answers the first two rings. D.I. Nakamoto calls out, "Mr. Lee?" as he peers through the windows. Within a few moments, they hear soft footsteps and the clicking of locks being opened. Then, the door opens just a bit. </p><p>They're met with a rather tall, lean man in his pajamas. His dark hair frames his pale face, making his eyes stand out even more. He inches away at the sight of them at his door, but he's more wary than scared. </p><p>"Mr. Leee?" the detective repeats, going back to his frame of sight. When he nods, he pulls out his ID and badge. "I'm Detective Inspector Nakamoto Yuta and this is Mr. Na and Atty. Park," he says, gesturing to the siblings beside him. Recognition flashes in his eyes at the sight of the attorney, but he says nothing. </p><p>"What's this about?" he asks quietly, his fingers gripping the heavy wooden door. </p><p>D.I. Nakamoto's face softens in the slightest. "You've filed a missing persons report for your brother, right?" </p><p>Mr. Lee casts a glance to Jihyo, and Jaemin thinks that he sees a flash of relief across his face. He's genuinely hopeful, and Jaemin realizes why he shouldn't be on trips like these. </p><p>"You've found him?" Mr. Lee's breathless, his free hand clutching his cardigan closer around his body. "Please tell me you have." </p><p>The detective takes a shaky breath. "Yes, we've found him, Mr. Lee."</p><p>It takes a few seconds before Jaemin could clearly see his face fall. His chest heaves with a breath, and his hold on the door tightens momentarily. He nods, his eyes looking at a point somewhere far, and Jaemin positions himself to catch the man in the event that he faints.</p><p>"A-are you sure?" he croaks out, eyes shining as he looks up at them. "Please, this can't be right–" </p><p>Before anyone could say anything else, Jihyo places a hand on his arm reassuringly. "Mark, may we come in?" </p><p>Lee Mark gazes up at her, his features filled with pleads. Jaemin thinks he'll collapse in his sister's eyes, but the man keeps himself upright. Nodding weakly, he steps aside to let them in. </p><p>The first thing Jaemin notices is the lack of decor in the home. Aside from the rare portrait here and there, and one large painting on one mostly bare wall, everything else is sparsely decorated. It's a large house, and even though it does feel like it's lived-in, it somehow feels empty. </p><p>Jihyo guides the man to the couch, sitting him down and offering him a throw blanket. The lawyer sits down beside him, letting Mr. Lee clutch her hand. Walking quietly, Jaemin scans his eyes around the room. After a few moments, he takes his seat beside D.I. Nakamoto, just opposite the two on the couch. </p><p>They don't rush, waiting patiently for Lee Mark to be ready. Detective Nakamoto's leaning forward, hands clasped by his knees. <em> Don't start talking when they're not ready, </em> he'd heard him say some time before. When Mr. Lee gives a nod, he begins. </p><p>"Mr. Lee, I'm sorry for your loss," he says carefully. Lee Mark is barely looking at him, seeming to fight down his tears. He nods again, once, acknowledging what he said. </p><p>"H-how…" he starts, but can't finish. Finally, he gazes up at him, his breathing a little labored. His hands are deathly white in Jihyo's hold. </p><p>"We don't know yet, but rest assured the team is–" </p><p>"No," Lee Mark interrupts, his voice breaking. "How did you find him?" </p><p>The detective exchanges a glance with Jaemin, who stares back at him. Giving the man all the gruesome details of how his brother was found would not be the best idea, but he had the right to know. </p><p>"Mr. Lee," D.I. Nakamoto cautions, hoping he doesn't insist on getting into the details. "He was the body found in the playground a few weeks ago." </p><p>Lee Mark visibly crumples. If he hadn't been sitting, it's sure that he would've fallen. </p><p>"Are you sure?" His voice is shaking, and his eyes are pleading with them. Jaemin nods almost imperceptibly as D.I. Nakamoto prepares to explain. </p><p>An envelope is brought out, a photo of the tattoo and an x-ray film retrieved from it. They're placed on the table facing Mr. Lee, who peers at them. His already pale face is drained of even more color at the sight, and Jaemin thinks he might actually faint this time. </p><p>"That's the remnants of the tattoo on the body, and the bone he broke during his middle school years." D.I. Nakamoto watches the man stare at the photos. "Dental records, DNA. They match, Mr. Lee." </p><p>His voice sounds sad, and Jaemin wonders if he had always been able to shift into this tone when talking to the families and the friends of the victims. It's gentle, without being condescending. He makes a mental note on that.</p><p>After all of that, Lee Mark has not started crying. Not unusual, since they've seen all forms of grieving across thousands of faces. His, however, holds a quiet peace, like he's holding back everything to save face in front of everyone here. Like he's willing himself to be strong even when he's allowed not to be. </p><p>Even so, Jihyo rubs his arm comfortingly. "They're the best at their jobs. You can trust that they will bring justice to your brother," she says, so quietly Jaemin isn't sure if he's supposed to hear. </p><p>Lee Mark nods, silent, taking deep breaths. For a moment, he glances at Atty. Parl, who continues to comfort him the best she can. Then, he faces the detective, his back a little straighter. </p><p>"Find who did this," he tells him, voice still a little shaky but louder than it had been the whole time they've been here. "Please." </p><p>The detective nods, saying his well-practiced line, "We'll do everything in our power, Mr. Lee." </p><p>When he nods in response, D.I. Nakamoto leans back in the armchair, pulling out his notepad. </p><p>"Now, I need you to answer some questions…" </p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>Back at the labs, Jaemin asks his sister if she wants to get coffee from the canteen at the labs. Jihyo smiles at him weakly, declining the offer. She returns to looking at the books and plaques on Jaemin’s shelves. </p><p>The forensic specialist lets his sister continue, silently taking a seat at his desk. He’s needed back at work soon, but staying a while longer here won’t hurt. It’s been a heavy 48 hours, and leaving now doesn’t seem like the best option.</p><p>After what seems like an eternity of silence, Jihyo turns to look at him, the beginnings of a most likely reassuring statement already on her lips. Jaemin waits for it, but it doesn’t really come, and he sees his sister’s gaze drop to the box on his desk.</p><p>It had been placed there in the morning, just before they left to go to the Lee home. Neither of them have really touched it at this point. Jaemin knows that they should open it now, to see if it has anything important or urgent. But the box isn’t his to begin with, and it will ultimately be his sister’s decision to open it or not.</p><p>Wordlessly, the lawyer picks up the box and walks over to the couch, placing the box gingerly on the coffee table. Understanding, Jaemin opens his drawers and retrieves two sets of gloves and a box cutter, then walking over to join his sister on the couch. He hands the gloves to Jihyo, and they’re nearly synced as they put them on.</p><p>Jihyo takes the box cutter and carefully cuts the tape sealing the box, making sure to keep herself at a safe distance in case something happens or something is released. Ever so gently, she lifts the lid, allowing a few moments before she looks in to make sure it’s completely fine.</p><p>After a few counts, Jaemin scooches closer to be able to peer into the box, his sister following suit.</p><p>What–?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yes i ended it there do not kill me</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/evnsangcvlt">cc</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. the chase</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An eyebrow is raised ever so slightly. “Mr. Huang? He hasn’t been here for the longest time.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>rather short chapter ahead!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Huang Renjun</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He barely hears the gunshot ripping through the air. </p><p>Every breath he takes burns through his lungs, but his body is screaming at him to keep going. His knees are wobbling, his feet losing balance with every step, but he can't stop. </p><p><em> Run first, think later. </em> He repeats this to himself as his eyes dart behind him. Renjun doesn't have time to think about where he's going. </p><p>Something's dripping down his side. He doesn't know if it's blood or sweat or something else. Something else is hurting, a piercing, hot pain that seems to spider across his body. <em> No time. </em>Managing to get into an abandoned hut, he clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle his panting. Stars are dancing in his line of vision, and he bites down on his palm to keep himself from losing consciousness. </p><p>There are steps somewhere, and his mind is too tired to register if they're near or far. He shuts his eyes, willing his heart to calm down lest they hear that too. Seconds, minutes, an eternity for all he knows passes, and he doesn't hear anything anymore. Carefully, he cracks open his eyes, staring at the ribbons of light seeping through the holes in the roof. </p><p>Renjun sags against the wall, shivering as the night air touches his skin. His other hand had unconsciously clutched at his stomach, and drawing it back showed blood on his pale fingers, dark and shining under the moonlight. He doesn't want to think about where else he was hit. Drawing a shaky breath, he fixes his gaze on the boarded up window opposite him. </p><p>For all he knows, they never really left, waiting for any sign of movement from inside before they did. If he shifts, the floorboards under him might creak, signalling his presence. Renjun wouldn't mind dying here, right now, but he can't. </p><p><em> Guanheng-ge, </em> he thinks. <em> I need to go back, I need to– </em></p><p>His head snaps up when there's a crunch of a twig breaking just outside. Renjun doesn't dare to breathe, keeping all his senses on alert as he waits. He starts counting in his head, the numbers blurring together as his consciousness fights to keep him up. </p><p>It doesn't matter. He waits and waits and waits. Nothing comes. </p><p>A part of him wants to stay, to let them tire out and leave. But a bigger, more urging part of him is itching to start running again. He's wasted enough time at this point, and he has no idea what could've happened in that span of time. With no way to contact either of his brothers or any other help, he's truly on her own. </p><p><em> "We have to go!" </em>Renjun had screamed, pulling his brother with all the strength he had left. </p><p><em> "No!" </em> Guanheng had struggled in his hold, trying to free himself. <em> "I have to–"  </em></p><p>Renjun had taken hold of his shoulders, shaking him. <em> "We can't, and you know that." </em> His words had sounded more severe than he thought they would be, but he had been too riled up to care. </p><p>His brother’s eyes had been bloodshot, fear and anger and grief all flashing in them. They glanced at the razing fires behind them, the black of his eyes filling with something Renjun couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.</p><p>Within moments, they had started to flee, away from everything they’ve ever known, and into something they were never going to be sure about. </p><p>Maybe that was their first mistake.</p><p>Renjun takes a deep breath, hand still tightly clamped on his mouth. He feels the exhaustion tug at his bones, threatening to pull him into sleep. Whatever god out there probably knows when he last slept, but he sure as hell doesn’t. Biting his tongue, Renjun digs his nails into where he approximates his wound is, uncaring about why that’s exactly what he shouldn’t do. The burn keeps him awake, heart pumping as if he’s still running. As long as he can, he’ll make sure that heart keeps beating.</p><p>He stays like that for most of the night, eyes barely closing even after the first strains of dawn peeked through the cracks in the hut’s walls. Renjun’s sure he’s lost enough blood to at least pass out, but he doesn’t allow himself to. There’s nothing in his ears but his own soft breathing and the gentle rustling of leaves around him, and he has never been more terrified of peace.</p><p>Waiting was all he could do, but he didn’t want to let herself ebb away like that. Just waiting, like a scared little animal? He isn’t going to allow it.</p><p>Gathering whatever scraps of material he could find in the hut, Renjun bandages himself as best as he could. He doesn’t think too much about his shaking fingers or how his knees wobble. They don’t matter.</p><p>
  <em> Guanheng-ge, I won’t leave you. </em>
</p><p>When his world plunges into darkness again, he’s as ready as he can possibly be, armed with whatever he scavenged in the hut, from hunting tools to simple knives. <em> Better than nothing, </em> he thinks. <em> Better than to be caught unarmed and dragged back without an ounce of fight left in me.  </em></p><p>Renjun knows he’s considerably weakened by his injuries, but there isn’t any other way now. It’s either he goes now or he’s just going to find his brother floating face down in the waters of their home. </p><p>Never.</p><p>The moment Renjun steps out of the shabby little hut, he finally lets himself think. Think of a plan, think of where he should go first--</p><p>He hears another shot ring through the air.</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Na Jaemin</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The first thing Jaemin notices in the box is a pile of photos. He doesn’t quite understand what exactly they show before his sister pulls out a whole stack. Jaemin watches as the lawyer goes through them, the crease in her forehead deepening with each one.</p><p>Soon enough, the stack that Jihyo finishes is put into Jaemin’s hands, and the forensic specialist flips through them as well. He sees people, coming out of buildings and cars, talking on phones and with each other. The shots seem like they were taken some distance away, but the faces were recognizable. As he looks through all of them, Jaemin slowly realizes who they are.</p><p>He looks up to his sister for confirmation. Jihyo’s eyes have gone cold, and she gives a small nod.</p><p>“Do you remember the face of the person that delivered this to you?” the lawyer asks him gently, not wanting to demand. </p><p>Jaemin remembers that night, his exhaustion and the way he tried to push some thoughts away. He nods, and Jihyo pulls out a notepad from her purse. Handing it to the forensic specialist, she says, “Can you write down any details you remember? Clothes, face, any physical markers? Not for a sketch yet, but just so we don’t forget.”</p><p>Nodding, Jaemin takes the notepad. They’ve done this a few times before, and he’s used to it now. Usually, he’d already do it on his own if he wasn’t too out of it. </p><p>When he finishes, the lawyer tucks the notepad back into her purse. She picks up the photos again, scanning each one a little better.</p><p>“Whoever sent this, they had ridiculously perfect timing.” Jihyo looks like she’s about to laugh at it all, but she doesn’t.</p><p>Carefully, they put the photos back into the box, closing it so that the lawyer could bring it home to examine even more. There seemed to be more than just the photos, and Jaemin understands that he may not be allowed to see everything.</p><p>Jihyo leaves soon after, gently reminding her brother to call if anything else comes up. Jaemin knows that there must be a weight on his sister’s shoulders and yet the lawyer still stands tall, walking away with as much strength as she could muster. He finds it admirable, and hopes he never sees it falter.</p><p>Sitting down on his office chair, the forensic specialist opens the file he hasn’t touched the whole day. Another round for toxicology exams, another round of swabbing the surface of the bones. Not much to see there, but any real results might take some more time. He knows time’s ticking, but there’s not much he can do.</p><p>At the bottom of the pile is a differently colored folder, the colors all too familiar to Jaemin. Immediately, her mind pulls up memories of his light blue uniform and all his notes, of the gardens of the school and the heavy wooden chairs.</p><p>
  <em> “Nana, look!” he said, his giggle bouncing off the quiet walls of the library. In his hands were two small bunnies, his voice startling them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jaemin shook his head and went back to writing in his notebook. “Animals aren’t allowed here.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Even without looking up, Jaemin could practically hear the boy pout. “But they’re so cute! I can’t just leave them out there, who knows what will happen to them?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The boy strode over to the table where Jaemin was working, placing the bunnies on his textbook. Jaemin looks up at him in shock, his head whipping around to check if the librarian hasn’t noticed them. “What are you doing?” he demands, and the boy’s smile only grew wider. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m gifting them to you! They’re lonely, and I can see that you’re lonely too. They’re friends! They won’t leave you, because friends don’t leave!” </em>
</p><p>Opening the blue folder, Jaemin looks at the photo stapled to the top of the page. He seems around the age Jaemin was when she was studying in SM High, with gray eyes that looked like they challenged everything and everyone. Even though he was unsmiling in the photo, Jaemin could feel the traces of his smile on his face.</p><p>Huang Renjun, 15 years old, March 23. He had dropped out within the same year that he had enrolled, and apparently barely anybody heard from him afterwards. His reason for dropping out wasn’t indicated in the information sheet that was retrieved. </p><p>Jaemin looks at the framed picture of his graduation day on his desk. He was with a beloved professor, who also happened to be a family friend. Everything was blue and white, and everyone seemed happy that day.</p><p>He looks back at the young boy in the file. Huang Renjun could’ve been there, during that day too, but he wasn’t. </p><p>What happened to him? And why has he resurfaced like this again, here, of all times?</p><p>Picking up his phone, Jaemin types in a name and presses the call icon. It rings a few times before he picks up.</p><p>“Good afternoon, uncle. May I come to the high school today?”</p><p> </p><p>◑ ◒ ◐</p><p> </p><p>SM High has barely changed. It still stands tall and proud, kind of the way his uncle and his sister stand. The garden is still how it was all those years ago, with its trees that gave ample shade and the flowers that bloomed brightly every year. There is a banner by the gate congratulating the new batch of students in elegant font. Jaemin barely remembers the last time he was here, but it’s like he never left.</p><p>Waiting by the front entrance is Kim Taeyeon, directress of SM High. Her smile reminds Jaemin of his sister, a practiced but nevertheless welcoming smile. “Mr. Na! The President informed me you’d come today.”</p><p>Jaemin nods, taking her outstretched hand and shaking it. He follows the directress into the school, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. They’re exactly as Jaemin remembers them too, with their pale blue walls and the sleek lines. They were never quite this quiet, but it was close.</p><p>He’s taken to the directress’ office, where he’s asked to take a seat. He never had a reason to be here before, but it still feels familiar. Jaemin supposes all offices in both the high school and the university are designed the same, following a singular template that is typical of the SM schools.</p><p>Taeyeon puts her papers away and takes a seat across Jaemin, gesturing for him to speak. Handing over the file that was given to him, Jaemin begins with, “I would like to get information on him.”</p><p>The directress takes the folder from him, opening it and looking at the information sheet. Dir. Kim had been working at the high school even before Jaemin started there, it would make sense for her to recognize the boy. </p><p>An eyebrow is raised ever so slightly. “Mr. Huang? He hasn’t been here for the longest time.”</p><p>Jaemin nods. “I understand. He was recently reported missing, and I was hoping for some information on his background.”</p><p>Humming, the directress stands up to go to her file cabinets. “There isn’t much on him left here, I apologize.”</p><p>“It’s alright.”</p><p>Taeyeon pulls out a thin file, setting it down on the table in front of the forensic specialist. “I’m so sorry this is all we could provide. May it help with your investigation.”</p><p>The forensic specialist flips through the file. There is some information on his previous schools, a photocopy of his birth certificate, grades, a certificate he may have never claimed. It’s more than he expected to get, really, and Jaemin is grateful.</p><p>“Thank you, it will help immensely.” Jaemin stands up to leave, bowing respectfully.</p><p>He’s escorted outside by the directress, who says her goodbyes. Her face is kind as ever.</p><p>“We would have been able to give more, if the rest of it weren’t pulled out.”</p><p>This gives Jaemin pause. “Pulled out?”</p><p>Nodding, Taeyeon continues, “Yes. He came here, personally, and got everything he could. Forms, photos, certificates, you name it. I barely recognized him, actually.”</p><p>Perhaps he needed the forms to apply in another school. But why would the directress, who rarely forgets a face, barely recognize him? “May I know why?”</p><p>Dir. Kim looks to be deep in thought. “It was some time later. He was much thinner, not the very active teenager I used to see. His voice sounded slightly panicked, but he tried to hide it.”</p><p>The medical examiner thinks of the bright-faced boy in the file. What could have possibly happened to him to make him look that different?</p><p>“How long ago was that, Miss Kim?” Jaemin can’t help but ask. </p><p>“A few years ago, if I recall correctly.”</p><p>Huang Renjun, once a bright and happy boy apparently, a man that hasn’t been heard of by anyone who knew him here for years, returning to get his files, disappearing again for some time before being reported missing by his brother, leaving behind a bloody car and barely any trace. Why?</p><p>Jaemin thanks the directress again, saying his goodbyes too. He walks back to his car, clutching the files to his chest. He promises to himself that he’ll get the answer to that.</p><p>Once in the car, his seatbelt has just clicked into place when his phone beeps. He sees that there’s a new message for him. </p><p>Reading the message almost makes him throw the phone.</p><p>
  <b>DO YOU THINK YOU CAN AVOID ME?</b>
</p><p>Her heart thrumming in his chest, Jaemin reads the message again and again. The number, he can’t mistake it. He looks around, trying to see if anyone or anything looks suspicious. There seems to be nothing to be found outside or in his car.</p><p>And even as he knows that it would be the worst possible thing to do, Jaemin starts typing a reply.</p><p>
  <b>DO YOU THINK YOU CAN AVOID ME?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Who are you?</b>
</p><p>Jaemin doesn’t dare to start the car yet, waiting for a reply. He doesn’t know if it’s safe to leave, if he should stay for any sort of lead. His mind screams at him to go, but he finds that he can’t yet.</p><p>It comes less than a minute later, and his heart beats a little quicker.</p><p>
  <b>I THINK YOU KNOW ME WELL ENOUGH, JAEMIN.</b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>drop some theories if you want! i'm interested to hear them :&gt;<br/><a href="https://twitter.com/bundoie">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/evnsangcvlt">cc</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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